As I ponder the peculiar phase of development that is 11-year-old boys, I can’t help but wonder if the creator of the Twilight Zone had them in mind. This is a time when they delicately, and sometimes clumsily, traverse the bridge between boyhood and manhood. Boys at this stage find themselves with one foot in each world, creating a confusing and often amusing experience for their mothers.
The oscillation between these two realms can be jarring. For instance, just the other day, my sixth-grader, Jason, peppered me with a flurry of questions about the birds and the bees, eager to grasp the intricacies of how babies are made. Though I was happy to clarify the misconceptions he’d gathered from friends, I was taken aback when the very next day he was back to pondering the whimsical existence of elves.
In another instance, he begged to watch The Maze Runner (rated PG-13), a thrilling adventure filled with action and suspense. He was enthralled by the giant, synthetic spiders that plagued the characters. Yet, just two hours after that intense film, I found him cozied up next to his younger brother, Lucas, binge-watching The Berenstain Bears (which I assume is rated G).
The contrast is captivating. On one hand, Jason insists he’s mature enough to stay home alone; on the other, he struggles to hang a wet towel properly. He relishes fancy meals like beef stroganoff (which I consider a bit upscale), yet still begs me to cut the crusts off his peanut butter sandwiches. He can mow the lawn like a pro, but needs assistance opening a can of Spaghetti-Os. He tackles complex math problems with ease, yet his yogurt lids and cheese-and-cracker wrappers seem to have a permanent home on the floor.
Daily, I have to remind him about applying deodorant, completing his homework, and refraining from spitting gum into wicker wastebaskets. Yet, he believes he’s ready for a girlfriend. When I asked him about his love life, he replied, “We hang out at recess.”
This sixth-grade romance resembles a country western song—no rules or commitments, and you don’t even need to spend time together to be considered a couple. The only criteria seem to be that both parties are teetering on the brink of puberty.
Speaking of which, Jason is eagerly anticipating the changes that come with it. He’s excited for his voice to deepen and for the day he surpasses my height (he claims he’s just three inches away, though I’m pretty sure it’s more like five). Yet, despite this eagerness, he still seeks out moments for cuddling. He’ll ask to snuggle on the couch while we watch So You Think You Can Dance, sharing in my admiration for the incredibly talented contestants.
What strikes me most is Jason’s kind heart. One morning, while I was preparing school lunches, he noticed I seemed off and asked, “Mom, are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself today.” He’s always the first to offer a hug or to say “I’m sorry.” He consistently reminds me that he loves me and even indulges my need for a goodbye hug before he boards the bus.
He’s destined to be a wonderful partner one day—affectionate, protective, and sensitive. Just maybe his future spouse should keep an eye out for those pesky wicker wastebaskets.
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